Part III: Famous Last Words

Chapter 19

They were standing there, staring at each other for a few seconds. Tim was waiting for an answer, but it didn't seem like he was going to get it. For just a moment, Tony froze in place. He didn't move, didn't say anything, but then, it was like he just planned on ignoring Tim completely. He walked over to his jar and emptied it out and then started to walk away. Tim grabbed Tony by the arm.

"Tony, what..."

Tony pulled away. "Hey, let go! My name is Joel, thank you very much. You must have me mixed up with someone else."

"No, I don't," Tim said, feeling more confused than ever.

He looked around the bar. There was almost no one there and definitely no one who was paying attention to them. No reason for Tony to be acting like this. He looked back at Tony.

"Tony, I've been looking for you for months. Why are you here?"

"Listen, I don't know you! Leave me alone," Tony said, sounding almost afraid.

...which made Tim pause. Why would Tony be afraid? Why would he be afraid of Tim? And if he was, why would he be showing it at all?

Unfortunately, he didn't get to pursue that because another man came over.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but the bar is closed," he said. "You're welcome to come back tomorrow. But right now, it's time to leave."

Tim got the feeling that there was no negotiating with this man. There was no question that he was the authority here, probably the owner. And he had a very stern expression even as he smiled politely.

"Okay," he said, not knowing what else to say.

Reluctantly, Tim watched Tony walk away and then, he turned and left the bar, feeling somehow lost and adrift. He wandered back to his hotel room and sat down, feeling numb.

He had spent almost every waking moment since coming out of his coma worrying about Tony, defending Tony, searching for Tony, insisting that Tony was alive when everyone else believed he was dead. He had put his career on the line. He had put his health on the line. He had spent weeks doing absolutely nothing but search for Tony.

To find him after all this time and all this fear and be so firmly rejected was like a punch in the gut. Tim knew that there might be a very good reason for what had happened tonight, but he had no idea what it was.

All he knew was that he had no idea of what to do now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After escaping the bar, Joel ran up the stairs to his apartment, closed the door, locked it and then sat down on the bed, shaking.

That man from his dream. He was real. He was alive. He was here.

And he called me Tony. It was like he knew me. And he was familiar to me.

But which version of his dream should he accept as the real one? This guy was real, but what did that mean? Was he a friend or enemy? Attacker or victim?

Is my name Tony, then?

He was terrified and that was a feeling he wasn't used to having... except in his dreams.

Joel sat there for a long time, not noticing the time passing, not seeing anything but the realization that someone he'd been dreaming dying was alive and here.

He said he'd been looking for me for months. It's been months since I woke up. Was he looking for me then?

There was a panicky feeling of indecision. What did he do about this?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After a while, Tim decided that he had to call Gibbs and report, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he wanted to say that he had found Tony but that something had gone spectacularly wrong with this discovery. And he felt that he needed to keep doing this himself until he understood what was going on. He was afraid that too many people confronting him might spook him and might lead to Tony vanishing again. Tim wasn't sure he could take that kind of thing.

So he lay there for a while, just thinking about what he was going to do.

Maybe he'd call Ducky instead. That would still count as checking in, right? He was still calling someone back there. It just wasn't Gibbs, and maybe he could ask Ducky what he thought about this. He knew he'd at least have real words from Ducky, not awkward silences.

Decision made, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Hello, Timothy. What has you calling me right now? It must be very early for you. I'm only just out of bed myself."

"Hi, Ducky," Tim said, unable to muster any energy. He'd forgotten how late it was. Tony's response to seeing him had completely thrown everything else out of his head.

"You sound upset. What is it?"

"I found Tony."

"You did? Alive? You found him alive? And well?"

"Yeah."

"That's absolutely amazing, Timothy! It's wonderful that Anthony is alive. You were the one who never doubted it. What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Timothy, you're not being very clear. Explain what you mean. This should be a reason for celebration, but you seem discouraged."

Tim took a breath and the words started pouring out of him. "I found him in L.A. He's been playing piano in a bar, apparently for a long time. I watched him tonight and when he was done, I talked to him. ...and he pretended like he didn't know me, like he wasn't Tony at all, but he is! All this time... and the only thing I got from finding him was him basically pushing me away, saying his name was Joel, that he didn't know who I was. It was like he really was just this guy playing in a bar. Ducky... I... I don't know how to take this. I don't know what to do! I don't... understand. I..."

"Timothy, slow down. Take a deep breath. Calm yourself."

Tim tried to do as he was told.

"Now, is it possible that Anthony is in a situation where he might be under duress or under observation? Some reason that he might need to put on an act?"

"Unless there's a camera in the bar... or the owner of the bar is somehow controlling him, I don't think so. He didn't use any of the signals we'd set up just in case of that before."

"Could you see any sign of injury? Was he not well? Was he... perhaps mentally disturbed?"

"He didn't seem like he was," Tim said, but then, he remembered that strange reaction. "But at one point, he did seem scared of me."

"Scared of you or scared for you?"

"No. Of me. I'm sure of it."

"What did you say to elicit that reaction?"

"I told him that I'd been looking for him for months and I asked him why he was here."

"What did he say in response?"

"He just said that he didn't know me, and then, the bar owner kicked me out because it was closing time."

There was a long pause.

"Timothy, I'm not sure what to tell you. There exists the possibility, however remote, that Anthony truly doesn't know who you are."

"But..."

"Think, Timothy. You yourself have no memory of what happened on that night. Your injuries were incredibly serious."

"But Tony's weren't! They could have been, but they weren't. Besides, that's one night, a couple of days. Not everything."

"But you were found and taken to a hospital and cared for by people you knew. By the accounts of those you spoke to in Norfolk, Anthony was found by complete strangers, in a situation far removed from his usual life. If he was disoriented enough, it's possible that Anthony might have been confused to the point of not knowing his identity and without anyone to help him with it, he might not have had any way to clear that up."

"But why would he come here?"

"Didn't you say, at one point, you and he had been wondering where their base of operations was, with the possibility that it might be centered on the West Coast?"

"Yes, but..."

"But it doesn't make sense to you. I agree that it seems very odd, but if Anthony is not under duress, and if he is not the dirty cop that Capt. Blaine wishes him to be..."

"He's not!" Tim interrupted.

"...well, then, there must be an explanation for this out-of-character behavior. Something that would remove his character, so to speak."

"If so... what do I do about it?"

"I'm not sure. Would you like us to come and join you?"

"No," Tim said, quickly. "No, I think I need to be the one doing it for now. He seemed so nervous just with me here. If it was a lot of people all looking for him, he'd feel cornered. Maybe he'd run again. Give me a few days, Ducky. Let me see if I can catch him when he'd be willing to talk to me. Please?"

"You know that many people will be wanting to know that Anthony is alive. While your concern has been serious, others also care about him."

"I know that... but please, just give me some time. If you're right, maybe he just needs to have a little bit of time not to be afraid of me and let me talk to him. He knew me. I know I wasn't a complete stranger to him. I know it."

"All right. If my guess is correct, it's possible that he just needs something more to jog his memory and get around whatever has blocked him from remembering. I will tell Jethro for you, since I know that's why you called me first. I will convince him to give you some time before he comes charging in, but you know he won't stay away for long."

"I know. Thanks, Ducky."

"You're welcome. And for now, Timothy?"

"Yeah?"

"Sleep. Take care of yourself. You need to. You know your limits."

"Yeah. Okay."

"If only I believed you."

Tim smiled a little.

"Thanks," he said again. "Bye."

"Good-bye, Timothy."

Tim hung up and sighed.

Could Tony really have simply forgotten everyone and everything? But if so, why wouldn't he have remembered when he saw someone he definitely knew?

The questions were still running rampant in his brain, but with Ducky's support in giving him time, he gradually relaxed enough and fell asleep as his usual tiredness reasserted itself.

He didn't bother changing his clothes or anything. He just curled up on the bed and slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony didn't sleep much that night. He couldn't pull his mind away from the man who had shown up at the bar. He couldn't stop going over why this man would know him, why he knew the man without knowing him.

Why did I just push him away? I know that I know him. If I had talked to him right then, Jack would have been there to help if I needed it. Why?

Jack.

Hadn't he been considering telling Jack his real problem? Hadn't he been considering trusting Jack with his secret weeks ago, the day that Louis had come in and threatened them?

If ever he needed help, this was the time. He needed something to help him know what to do. Maybe this was it.

He got up off the bed and went down to the back door of the bar. Jack wasn't there yet, so he sat down and waited in the alley, hoping that Jack would get there soon. Now that he'd decided to ask for help, he just want to be able to do it and not put it off.

He ended up waiting for a couple of hours, but he didn't leave. He just watched for the man to show up again so he could avoid him until he had a chance to talk to Jack.

Finally, at around noon, Jack came as usual. He looked surprised to see Joel standing there. He raised his eyebrow in that way that seemed so very familiar.

"What are you doing out here, lurking around the door like some kind of street urchin?"

"Urchin?"

"Yeah. I'm not giving you scraps. What do you want, Joel?"

"I need some help, Jack."

The joking vanished instantly.

"With what?"

"Can I come in and tell you about it? What I've been not telling you for the last eight months?"

The eyebrow went up again but Jack nodded without hesitation and turned around to open the door to the bar.

Joel followed him inside, hoping that this would finally get him on the path he needed to be on.

Whatever that was.